Shadow Boxer
by winchester-sweetheart
Summary: The lights goes off. Sam may be dying, but Dean can't find him in the dark.


**SHADOW BOXER**

_The lights goes off. Sam may be dying, but Dean can't find him in the dark._

**This is something different than i normally write. I tried to make it sad but detached, which i've never tried before. I hope you like it, it's short, but hopefully it's okay :)  
No copywright yadayadayada...  
Enjoy**

Darkness is like a disguise. It hides everything.

In the dark Dean couldn't see Sam. He couldn't see anything. If he was a good big brother he'd be able to sense Sam, wouldn't he? Wouldn't he be able to hear Sam's breathing? Feel his body heat? Why couldn't he feel his brother? It wasn't like the man was small, like a frail mouse. He was tall and imposing. If he was a good brother he would know how to help Sam.

He'd never seen anything quite like it. Sam flying through the air. Landing on the ground with a sickening thud. No blood. None but the red retreating from his mouth. That meant internal bleeding. His eyes were still shining, though. They hadn't gone dull. Hadn't faded away. He was still alive. Then the lights went out, literally. Dean had screamed for his brother with no reply. Screamed and screamed. And then he was afraid, for if he couldn't find his brother how in the world would he manage to save him?

"Sam!" Dean's eyes were trying to adjust, trying so hard. He slowly crawled around the space, feeling for his kid brother. All his hands touched were the cold solid tiles of the floor. But still he persevered. As long as he couldn't see Sam there was hope, he may still be alive. He had to be, Winchesters don't die after being thrown around a bit. They'd survived falling through windows, down stairs. Sam was going to get through this. Of course he was.

Even if he was hurt. Badly. Sam wasn't a quitter. He'd never been. Even though Dean had been angry at his brother when he'd left for college, accused him of giving up on the hunt, it was just a front. He was hiding his admiration for the boy. He'd stood up for himself. He'd put himself first for once, something Dean had never managed to do. He'd survived Stanford all alone, without his family. He'd had Jess, of course (she was almost a Winchester), but he'd lost her all too suddenly. And, although, he was broken because of it, he was still breathing. He'd survived his parents and first love and somehow gotten through it. Dean knew what loss was. He'd suffered a fair bit himself. When Sam was stabbed and left bleeding in his arms it was as if the sky had crashed down around him. So he knew what Sam had been through, knew the pain and suffering. But he knew Sam had fought through, just like he was going to in this particular situation.

The lights returned shockingly. Dean instantly shut his eyes, squinting into the now shadowless room. He needed to open his eyes soon, needed to find his brother. But he couldn't. At first he keep them closed because it was too bright too quickly, but then it was because he wasn't sure what he was going to see. In his mind he saw Sam sitting upright, holding his aching head to his hands, too disoriented to call out. Then he imagined the younger man on his back, hurt but breathing. Then he opened his eyes.

The body on the floor was easy to spot. There was a crimson stream of blood trailing from the lips to the shaggy mop of brown locks, but that wasn't what Dean noticed first. It was the eyes. Unblinking they stared to the roof. Unlike before the lights went out there was no spark left. They were muted and sunken. No Sam in those eyes. He was gone.

The cry Dean let out as he moved slowly to the body was reminiscent of a lion's roar. It was deep and angry, lost and anguished. It was the cry of a brother losing a brother.

As he reached the body he felt for a pulse… just in case. Of course there was none. There was nothing but the awful sound of silence.

Tears fell freely, most landing on the dead boy, washing away the leaking blood. His pale face and deadened eyes never moved from their spot on the ceiling.

As he'd done many times before Dean pulled Sam into his arms. There he sobbed into the crane of the larger man's neck. Time began passing then. So much time.

Dean rocked his baby brother, weeping for what could only be described as a lifetime.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't find you." He moaned.

**I know it's a bit iffy in parts, but I enjoyed writing it and that's the most important thing.  
Please review if you liked it. Please review if you didn't. Constructive criticism welcome.**

Thanks,  
Erin

**P.S The story is named after a Fiona Apple song, but that is the only similarity.**


End file.
